to call for hands from above
by Fiercest
Summary: Fifty years after the war, Rukia stops visiting the living world. [Angst with happy ending]


Fifty years After, Rukia stops visiting the living world.

She is a captain now, with innumerable responsibilities. Not to mention the weight of the Kuchiki name; a load her brother has slowly begun to share with her.

She fills her days with paperwork, training, a standing appointment for tea with Kyoraku-Soutaichou and Shinigami Women's Association meetings. She fills her nights with dinners with her brother, drinks with Renji, Rangiku and Nanao, anything to pass the hours and the quiet.

.  
.

 _i_.

Tatsuki Arisawa shows up on the roster of Academy graduates and Rukia drafts her immediately. If there's one thing that her year in the living world taught her, it's that one can never have too many friends around.

.  
.

 _ii_.

"Do you remember how you died?" Rukia asks, with little sensitivity, over ice cream.

Tatsuki, with her mouth full, shakes her head, "I hope it was awesome though."

Never one to concern herself with the details, Tatsuki considers herself satisfied with how it all turned out. She lived a good life, became a prize fighter, had a nice girl. She was middle aged when she died, but she doesn't feel cheated. This life is as good as any. She feels worse for the people she left behind. She doesn't know who she worries about more; Ichigo or Orihime.

Discovering she'd been right about Rukia all along was nice.

"Do you remember how you died-? AH SHIT," she grips her head, "Brainfreeze."

"I was a baby."

While massaging her temples Tatsuki grunts, "Well that's a huge bummer. Don't tell people that."

Despite herself, Rukia laughs.

.  
.

 _iii_.

Sex adds an element of complexity to relationships that she finds wholly unnecessary. Men can be so emotional about it. But a woman has needs.

And when you're a captain, your pool narrows considerably. Conflicts of interest, gossip, hero-worship: all things worth avoiding in a bedmate.

In the end, she picks a fellow captain. A comrade, not a friend. They respect each other enough to be upfront about what it is. It's sporadic but it's good; an exercise in stress relief and banking flames.

Neither of them makes more of it than it is.

Rukia is not looking for a partner.

He has his own issues to work through.

.  
.

 _iv_.

Rukia has become a good teacher. She selects her protégés for their fire and spirit. Many of them have risen through the ranks and she couldn't be prouder.

Occasionally she'll write recommendations, and she is never more brimming with smugness than when another captain writes back to tell her that her faith was well placed.

Tatsuki says she'd make a great motivational speaker. From what she can gather, this is apparently a profession in the living world. Just talking to people and telling them how to live their lives? She supposes she would be good at that. She's had a lot of practice.

.  
.

 _v_.

One day, Byakuya makes an appointment with her. This is an odd occurrence, not because they never spend time together, but because they live together. He would see her later for dinner.

"Nii-sama, is everything alright?"

He nods and gracefully moves to her personal sitting area. She follows, confused.

"Is this an urgent matter?"

"Not at all."

He stands until she invites him to sit, as is customary. She calls for Kiyone to make tea, then takes a seat across from him.

They are long past the stage when Rukia feels uncomfortable around him. She understands him far better now and he has made an immense effort to do the same.

"I came here because this is an official matter and I felt this setting would be most appropriate. Over the past few years, I've given you more and more responsibilities to prepare you, as my heir."

"Your guidance and trust have been greatly appreciated, I am honoured by it."

"When you were promoted to Captain, I had something commissioned for you. It is deservedly yours, as it should have been long ago." Byakuya places a cherry wood box on the table. It's so smooth that it shines and gleams in the light. Her name, in full, is written in ornate characters on the lid.

Rukia flips open the gold latch and opens the box. Nestled on a bed of pure, white silk is a kenseikan. Three perfect white ridges. She runs her fingers along each peak and looks up at her brother with wide eyes. "I- I don't know what to say."

Byakuya stands and walks around the table then kneels at her side. The panic of unknown variables and unfamiliar territory makes Rukia's heart flutter. "Allow me." He takes the kenseikan and begins to braid it into her hair. Yuzu used to practice braiding hers and Karin's hair. This feels just like that; like family, familiarity and home.

She respects her brother, always has. She loves him, has for many years now. She has grown comfortable with him. But this is something new. This is normality, this is intimate and real. This is the final mark of his acceptance. This is a welcome that she has never expected, never could have dreamed up.

She feels the tears burning in her eyes, but her smile is wide. And when he's done and pulls away, she can see him clearly.

"Thank you Nii-sama."

"You are very welcome, Rukia."

And Rukia feels it.

.  
.

 _vi_.

Rukia relearns lacking dignity.

Alone in Soul Society, she allows herself to be the way she was in the living world, in Rukongai. She allows herself to be gruff and impatient and silly. She tells jokes and draws all of her officers birthday cards by hand. Her characters have become famous. Kiyone and Tatsuki tell her that they pass them around the division like trading cards. Kiyone is the first to collect a full set.

.  
.

 _vii_.

She asks Renji to give her a tattoo.

She spends half a day, lying on her stomach as he takes a stick and poke to her back.

"Mine are about all my battles," he tells her, with the needle in his teeth as he dabs at a painful bit where it's started to bleed. "Yours is about you."

He only laughs a little when she whines at the pain.

Rangiku, who holds her hand through most of it, laughs a lot.

.  
.

 _viii_.

She has a good life. She's surrounded by people who love and respect her. On her own merits, for herself. She has work worth doing. A world to shape. People to lead. She has followed her dreams and ambitions, and they led her here.

Her life is not empty without him, it's not. It's full to bursting with purpose, light and love.

But sometimes.

In the dark, in a bed that is empty except for her, she wonders. In the morning, when she wakes up alone and has no one to kiss goodbye. When she has a quiet moment in the park and a breeze lifts her hair just right and she can practically see him in the distance. In battle, when she can hear his voice and feel him at her back.

She wonders what might have been.

What if she had let him love her? What if she had stayed? What if she had taken him with her? What if she shared her life with him?

She does not often second guess herself, but somewhere in the living world there is a human boy who always gave her pause.

Her life is good and full. But having him would be so much better than not having him.

.  
.

 _And you, you knew the hand of the devil_  
 _And_ you, _kept us awake with wolf teeth_  
 _Sharing different heartbeats_  
 _In one night_

.

.

 _footnote i._

Fifty years after the war, Rukia stopped visiting the living world and this is why:

It was a warm summer day, the pavement swam under the sun's scrutiny. Ishida was the one to call her. He had retired from the hospital and spent his days with his family or sewing dresses and costumes for loved ones and on commission. His hands were just as steady and capable as they always were, despite his age. Though, his glasses had slowly thickened over the years.

"How are you?"

"I'm well, how are you? How is everyone?" She didn't mark his brusque tone as anything out of the ordinary, that was just Ishida.

"…Everyone is fine," It was in the pause that she found something to worry about. "You should visit. Today. Before three o'clock."

She hesitated, "I have a lot of work to do, I don't know that I can get out to the human world before then."

"Make time," he told her.

The fear manifested in her chest like an anchor pulling her down, the air left her lungs in a gasp. "Ishida, what's happened?"

"I can explain when you come."

She left that very minute. Kiyone was left in charge.

She bolted through the senkaimon and did not bother with a gigai. They met at the entrance to the hospital. Ishida's wrinkled expression was grim and familiar. He gestured for her to follow. He led her through the white halls, the milling doctors, nurses, patients and families, before stopping at the entrance to a third-floor ward.

"What's happened?"

He must have seen the fear in her eyes.

"Rukia," he had never before called her that, "It's Ichigo." She moved to shove past him, but he stopped her. "He's been here for a while. We've been thinking about how to tell you-"

"What have you been keeping from me?!"

"-Today is a good day, that's why I called you. He's having a good day."

"What does that mean? Then why is he here?"

Ichigo was 67 years old, any manner of horrible things could have befallen him, weakened and wizened as he's become. She saw him. She just saw him. When was that? A few weeks? Maybe a few months. She couldn't recall but she just saw him. He had to be fine.

"He's sick, I just wanted to warn you before you saw him."

For fifty years she had tried to keep a respectful distance. What was it for? So much time wasted.

"Take me to him," she said imperiously. "Right now."

Ishida obliged.

He had his own room. Yuzu was sitting beside him in a faded brown leather chair. Rukia was glad that he wasn't alone. They were chatting quietly and he had a smile on his face. Relief washed over her body like a warm shower.

"Ichigo." It hadn't been that long since they'd seen each other, but she'd missed him. She took her place on his other side and smiled down at him.

His hair had faded into a peachy white fuzz, his eyes were milky with cataracts. But the folds of his face couldn't conceal the man he was. If anything, they were just his teenaged scowl lines made more prominent.

She could shake herself. Death wasn't the end for them. She had to remember that.

"Rukia," he smiled, "Been a while."

"Yes, how are you feeling?" the knot of anxiety was loosening now that she could see him. He was fine. He seemed fine.

"As good as can be expected." He smiled up at Yuzu, who was not looking reassured.

"It's good to see you Rukia-chan."

"You too Yuzu."

"Why are you dressed like that?" asked Ichigo.

Rukia quirked a brow and looked down at herself. She supposed he meant why wasn't she in a gigai, but she didn't always have the time.

"You look like you're playing dress up, midget. I mean, unless you got promoted twice and didn't tell me."

"Excuse me?"

"You're wearing a captain's robe," he said like she was the one being an idiot.

Rukia didn't know what to do. She glanced back and forth between Yuzu and Ishida helplessly. Something was very wrong.

.  
.

 _footnote ii._

Dementia, she learned later, was a horrible human disease. It ate at the mind until there was nothing left.

It was explained to her that sometimes he was out of place in time and sometimes he didn't recognize anyone at all.

For months she returned to the living world as often as possible. It was an immense strain. She was caught between feeling guilty that she couldn't visit more often and never ever coming back again.

Because more and more often, he stopped knowing her face. As he grew weaker, he grew more confused. His mind was failing him. He would have fits of anger and frustration that she would quell as best she could, but sometimes she felt like she was making it worse.

She wanted to be there for him. She wanted to be his partner.

But she had other responsibilities that yanked her back.

She was considering taking a leave of absence, but then she visited the living world one last time.

.  
.

 _footnote iii._

Ishida said this could go on for years yet. She wondered if dying sooner was what was best for him. He'd have a life waiting for him. He'd be healthy, he'd have his full faculties. Here, life was cruel. There was no end in sight. He was out to sea, far from the relief of shore.

But for today, he was alright. Today was a good day.

"You saw Tatsuki on the roster huh?"

"Yes, she'll be graduating soon. I'll tell her you say hello."

"I miss her, she's been dead for 20 years, send her over for a visit when you can?"

"Of course," Rukia promised, willing to deny him nothing. "You'll be upset, she's looking a lot better than you."

"Most people are, these days."

"Well, you were never that handsome to begin with."

"Hey, I did alright."

Her hands found his. "Passable at best."

They lapsed into a companionable silence.

"Do you ever think of dying now? Of skipping this part?" she hated herself for saying it, but also wondered if anyone else had asked him if he wanted the option.

"Nah," he said, sighing a gust of 67 years of breath. "I think I've gotta see this thing through."

"I understand," she didn't, not really, but that may have been because she loved him.

"You don't have to watch, you could-"

"If you finish that sentence I'll put you out of your misery now," she growled, without thinking. How dare he? But that was out of bounds.

"I don't want you to watch. I want you to see me as the man I was."

"You're still that man, the same man you've always been in my heart."

"I'm not. You think I don't know how you feel when I don't recognise you? Let me paint you a picture." His tone was light but she flinched nonetheless. "It feels like the person who knew you better than anyone else in the universe suddenly doesn't know who you are. It feels like talking at a wall. Like no matter what you do it won't leave an impression. It feels like you're on fire and no matter what you do, nothing helps and you can't breathe and living hurts. Except-" And here he took her hand in his and squeezed it as tightly as he could, which wasn't much. "Except I dealt with it for hours. I could fight to fix it. I can't drag this out for you. It's a disease, there's no fighting it. Only waiting."

Ichigo touched her face and it was the first time she realized that she had been crying.

"I'll still be waiting, here or there, it doesn't work like that. I can't just stop-"

"Let me go. I'll find you, I swear I will. When this is all over I am going to come back to you."

"I don't understand why you have to go through this," she drew that hand to her mouth and held it there. "Please." She didn't know what she was praying for.

"Thank you, Rukia, for giving me this life. For giving me this time. Wait for me a little longer?"

"Please don't make me go."

"It's not up to you."

"Well it's not up to you either! What was this all for?!" she demanded, "Am I your partner or aren't I? You can't have it both ways." She was screaming now. "I don't need you to be brave for me, you idiot! I'm plenty brave. I love you and you need me!"

"Rukia, please-"

"Ichigo, I can stay. I can help you, I don't care if you don't remember me. You shouldn't have to be alone. I don't want to leave you!" Kuchikis do not get hysterical, but it was a near thing.

"What did I tell you? Your opinions are hereby rejected."

That was ten years ago.

.

.

 _One night to be confused_  
 _One night to speed up truth_  
 _We had a promise made_  
 _Four hands and then away_

.  
.

 _ix_.

She's been grooming Tatsuki.

She's a powerful woman with raw talent and the instincts of a prize fighter. Rukia enjoys training her. It's like directing a tornado or a hurricane. "Again." She commands. With a twitch of her wrist, Tatsuki's zanpakuto flies into the air and plants itself twenty feet behind her.

"Every time we do this it gets more humiliating," Tatsuki moans, "I feel like you're trying harder. Were you not trying before?"

"She just wants to look cool while she kicks your ass," Renji chimes in from the sidelines.

"That's just not fair," she pants, hands on her knees.

"If I'm making eye contact with you, it means you've improved."

"Oh come on!"

"I could bring out the paperwork and read some of it over while we do this if that would make you feel better." Rukia's grin shows all her teeth. She smugly turns her nose up as she goads the other woman into battle. "Come on Arisawa, don't you think you can hold my attention?"

"I'll hold your attention alright…" she grumbles under her breath before picking up her sword and charging again. "Haaaaaaaayaaaaah— OW! OW! OW!"

Rukia pushes Tatsuki's sword aside with the back of her knuckles, putting her off-balance. She then hits her directly in the funny bone.

"You're the worst."

At Renji's snort, Rukia's gaze cuts up towards him, "Glad you're enjoying yourself, want to take a turn?"

"You want to pick on someone your own size? I don't want to embarrass you in front of your squad."

"What was that Lieutenant?" Given that the air in the courtyard lowers by several degrees, Renji does the wise thing and shuts up. Rukia's disposition immediately shifts to sunny. To Tatsuki, she crooks her finger, "Come at me again, this time try to remember that you were a championship fighter and cover yourself when you strike."

When she turns around there is a man in the centre of the courtyard. "Yo."

A roundhouse kick would have knocked the wind out of her if Rukia hadn't already lost her breath.

She goes from doubled over to running before she has the chance to think. Rukia collides with the man full force. She threads her fingers tightly into his orange hair and pulls from the roots, yanking him towards her in a passionate, feral kiss.

Eventually, she forces herself to pull away so she can stare at his face.

"I told you I'd come as soon as I could."

Her life was full. She did not need him. She missed him. She wanted him so badly.

And now that he's here, her world is complete.

.  
.

 _to call for hands from above,_  
 _to lean on_


End file.
